Surrender

November 10, 2012 by 22 Comments

Thy saints are comforted, I know,

And love Thy house of prayer;

I therefore go where others go,

But find no comfort there.

Oh make this heart rejoice, or ache;

Decide this doubt for me;

And if it be not broken, break,

And heal it, if it be.

~WILLIAM COWPER (English, 1731-1800)

As you walk into the weekend, may He hale a cab for you before you give up, lay crumbs of certainty when you lose your way, embrace you with a warm hug from a fellow pilgrim. And when the sign creaks, swinging in the chilly howl of night air, may the sound be a reminder that he is with you. He is faithful. Always.

Thanking God for each of you. Welcome to the Weekend Friends!

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When Letting Go Seems Foolish

October 20, 2012 by 18 Comments

Perform impossibilities

or perish. Thrust out now

the unseasonal ripe figs

among your leaves. Expect

the mountain to be moved.

Hate parents, friends and all

materiality. Love every enemy.

Forgive more times than seventy-seven.

Camel-like, squeeze by

into the kingdom through

the needle’s eye. All fear quell.

Hack off your hand, or else

unbloodied, go to hell.

Thus the divine unreason.

Despairing now, you cry

with earthy logic – How?

And I, you God, reply:

Leap from your weedy shallows.

Dive into the moving water.

Eyeless, learn to see

truly. Find in my folly your

true sanity. Then Spirit-driven,

run on my narrow way, sure

as a child. Probe, hold

my unhealed hand, and

bloody, enter heaven.

 Luci Shaw, The foolishness of God, 1 Corinthians 1:20-25

May we each remember the unfathomable ways of God cannot always be explained and often seem foolish to the hearts of men. And perhaps sometimes, and most of the time, and always, we must let go of what feels counterintuitive. 

Welcome to the Weekend Friends!


This is #20 in the series 31 Days of Letting Go. You can read the collective here. If you are a writer, I invite you to link up any post you’ve written on the theme of letting go in the comments here on Friday. Subscribe to receive the series in your inbox or feed by adding your address in the side bar under Follow Redemptions Beauty.

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Pilgrims Surrender

October 13, 2012 by 28 Comments

My Lord, I have no clothes to come to thee;

My shoes are pierced and broken with the

road;

I am torn and weathered, wounded with the

goad.

And soiled with tugging at my weary load:

The more I need thee! A very prodigal

I stagger into thy presence, Lord of me:

One look, my Christ, and at thy feet I fall!

~GEORGE MACDONALD (Scottish, 1824-1905)

Thanking God that He stands at the end of the road, arms outstretched and ready to catch us when we stumble flesh footed. May you feel the warmth of His embrace longer than it feels comfortable today. Surrender to the stillness.

Happy Saturday Friends!

And an epilogue to yesterday’s post: I experienced AMAZING grace. EVERTHING was saved on my hard drive. And it is under warranty, I’ll have a new one on Monday. For this I give him glory. Thank you for praying.

 

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For the Restless

August 25, 2012 by 31 Comments

Possess your soul in patience

Own it. Hold your heart the way

you’d hold a live bird–your two hands

laced to latch it in, feeling

its feathery trembling, its fledgling

warmth, its faint anxieties

of protest, its heart stutter

against the palm of one hand, a fidget

in the pull of early light.

Possess it, restless, in

the finger cage of patience. Enfold

this promise with a blue sheen

on its neck, its wings a tremor

of small feathered bones

until morning widens like

a window, and God opens

your fingers and whispers, ‘Fly!’

~Luci Shaw

Wherever your weekend wanderings take you, may you be gentle on yourself and take a few moments to breathe deep. Hold your plans loose enough for others to join the circle. And when you find yourself wanting to hide from the noise, wait for an open window of peace. Stand in it with your eyes closed and linger awhile. If you  listen close, you can hear the whisper of redemption.

Happy Saturday Friends!

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From What I Am Not

June 23, 2012 by 21 Comments

 

My prayers, my God, flow from what I am not;

I think thy answers make what I am.

Like weary waves thought follows upon

thought,

But the still depth beneath is all thine own,

And there thou mov’st in paths to us

unknown.

Out of strange strife thy peace is strangely

wrought;

If the lion in us pray – thou answerest the

lamb.

~GEORGE MACDONALD (Scottish, 1824-1905)

Wherever your weekend wanderings take you, may you find a quiet spot to nestle into His goodness. wade into the deep end of His stillness, idle on the shore of peaceful understanding. 

Happy Saturday Friends! 

 

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Overcome by Ordinary

June 16, 2012 by 36 Comments

 

It is a hard art to learn,

catching quiet

by palms raised

cupped in

air shifting location

here and there like

trying to guess the pattern of falling leaves,

and hoping to feel

the soft descent of moments

when silence slips

between sounds.

 

This ordinary time is

gifted with days,

weeks of mundane grace

routinely following the liturgy

of hours anticipating creation

tuning its prayer and praise to the

rhythms of incarnate love.

 

I am used to the uproar,

the Holy drama,

the appetite’s gnarled discord

of fasting and feasting on borrowed time,

the knocking of angels,

the blubbering piety of waiting,

appointed seasons for guilt and grief,

tears of joy and disbelief,

the birth of miracles, the passion of virgins,

the mourning of a love so divine.

 

This ordinary time is gifted in its quiet, marked passing

Christ slips about

calling and baptizing,

sending and affirming,

pour in his Spirit like water

into broken cisterns,

sealing cracks and filtering our senses,

that we may savor the foolish

simplicity of his grace.

 Passing Ordinary Time by ENUMA OKORO

{Photos taken in Capernwray, England}

I’m cupping my hands to hold the wonder of ordinary.  Won’t you join me?

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Building Clumps of Moments

June 9, 2012 by 16 Comments

It usually starts taking shape

from one word

reveals itself in one smile

sometimes in the blue glint of eyeglasses

in a trampled daisy

in a splash of light on a path

in quivering carrot leaves

in a bunch of parsley

It comes from laundry hung on a balcony

From hands thrust into dough

It seeps through closed eyelids

as through the prison wall of things of objects

of faces of landscapes

It’s when you slice bread

when you pour out some tea

It comes from a broom from a shopping bag

from peeling new potatoes

from a drop of blood from the prick of a needle

when making panties for a child

or sewing a button on a husband’s burial shirt

It comes out of toil of care

out of immense fatigue in the evening

out of a tear wiped away

out of a prayer broken off in mid-word by

sleep

 

It’s not from the grand

but from every tiny thing

that it grows enormous

as if Someone was building Eternity

as a swallow its nest

out of clumps of moments

 Small Things by Anna Kamenska (Polish, 1920-1986)

A selection from the chapter, In the Stillness, from At the Still Point by Sarah Arthur. I’m giving away two copies to two lucky people on Sunday if you leave a comment here.

Just as each bud on this single Hydrangea bush in my front yard unfurls to form a kalidescope of color, may we open the beauty of Christ to the watching world. Each petal of who we are forming clumps of moments that build an eternal home.

Happy Saturday Friends!

 

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